


Balang-araw

by tres (threefouram)



Series: Author's Favorites [7]
Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Swing Sets & Parks, Teen Romance, fluff & friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threefouram/pseuds/tres
Summary: It is said that blood runs thicker than water.Often, this is meant to say that the bonds formed between kin are the strongest and most important. Other interpretations, though, suggest that the original expression fell more along the lines ofthe blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. That is, perhaps the people whom we actively decide to have in our lives are more important after all.





	Balang-araw

**Author's Note:**

> [water: the original](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920225/chapters/24286182).
> 
> We celebrate Philippine Independence day, _Araw ng Kasarinlan/Kalayaan_ , annually to commemorate the Philippine Declaration of Independence from Spain in 1898 (written by Aguinaldo's war conselor and signed by 98 Filipinos appointed by _Aguinaldo_ ). This was also the day that the Philippine flag was first unfurled and the National Anthem that had been composed by Julian Felipe was first played.
> 
> Now, that bit of history is nice and all. However, this "independence" was not recognized internationally — as the Spanish government had handed the country to the United States as per the 1898 Treaty of Paris, hence the Philippine-American War and the colonization of the Philippines by the United States.
> 
> The United States of America granted independence on the 4th of July, 1946 in the Treaty of Manila — coinciding with the United States' own Independence Day. This is why the Philippines had celebrated Independence Day on the 4th of July until Republic Act No. 4166 in 1964 officially declared June 12 to be Philippine Independence Day, and July 4 to be Philippine Republic Day or Filipino-American Friendship Day _(which sounds like a load of horsecrap of a name to call it, if you ask me)_ on the basis that the Declaration of Independence had been ratified back in 1898.
> 
> **So, in celebrating Philippine Independence Day this year, just keep in mind that we were colonized by the Americans (and, consequently the Japanese during WWII) 48 years after being "liberated" from Spain because the Spanish Gov't sold us off in Paris.**
> 
>    
> For real though, Happy Independence Day. Happy Pride Month. Enjoy reading!

It is said that blood runs thicker than water.  
  
That is, there is something to be said about the bond between kin. That is, we are born from blood that runs deeper than ourselves. (But is it not blood, too, that runs through our veins as our hearts beat fast and steady? Is it not blood that runs through our veins, bright red with love that reeks of metal — love that is bright as gold, love with a resolve of steel?)  
  
  
  
It was a late summer night: out in the park, inconspicuous in the corner of a small suburban subdivision where the breeze blew in soft, steady streams of air.  
  
It had been raining earlier.  
  
The ground beneath them was soft, left with the faded imprint of their shoes from two hours ago.  
  
The wind moved them back and forth on the swings, gentle. Their arms were cold where the swing-set chains brushed against skin, but their hands were warm where they met — with pinkies interlocked between their seats, suspended somewhere between the grass and the stars. There were a million stars in the sky looming above them. There were a million stars in the sky, and all they needed was one.  
  
They had been talking a while ago — but the clouds had cleared out and given way to the moon, and it was a good opportunity to let the silence reign over them. It would be sappy for either of them to admit that they were content, happy even, to exist in the same space at the same time, but it would also be the truth.  
   
It was nice, for what it was.  
  
Both of them had been raised hearing each other’s last name grumbled around in their respective households, with a slew of curse words and insults thrown next to it. Both had been expected to bear the grudge that had been passed down from generation to generation. Yet they found themselves in their current situation, succumbing to a cliché of rebellious, teenage love: the off-brand version of a modern _Romeo and Juliet_.  
  
There was a thrill to it, in a way. The adrenaline was pumping in heavy bursts in their veins — and they both swore that they could hear their heartbeats, harmonizing with the slight creaking of the seesaw and the insects crawling on the ground. But perhaps they sought something more than the misplaced rush thrumming under their skin, more than the fear of being found out — a love that knew quietude and comfort, a love that was accepted.  
  
It was a late summer night and it was nice, for what it was. They had each other, after all.  
  
If moments like this were all they would ever be allowed to have, then they would have to take it. (But it wasn’t enough. It never is.)  
  
  
  
“Ibarra,” a stiff voice broke the silence. “Where do your parents think you are?”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” assured Crisostomo, a sigh tumbling out of his lips. “Maria is covering for us. Alam niya kung gaano ‘to kaimportante sa’kin. At alam niya kung gaano _ka_ kaimportante sa’kin. Hindi nila malalamang nandito ako, promise.” He glanced to his side, watching as their hands swung against the momentum of their bodies — a demonstration of the law of inertia. He smiled, eyes drifting straight ahead. He stared at the spot that the park ended and the sidewalk began. “I’m okay here. I want to be here, Elias.”  
  
He hummed back, looking to his left. He absently admired the way the pale moonlight illuminated the side of the other boy’s face, shaking his head at himself after he realized what he was doing. _Dios mio, Crisostomo._ His gaze dropped down to where their fingers were joined, mouth curling into a soft smile. _Ano’ng ginagawa mo sa’kin?_ “Yeah,” he agreed, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you could make it.”  
  
  
  
It is said that blood runs thicker than water.  
  
But nothing good ever did come from a thirst quenched by blood. (But it is under cold, cold water that we wash our hands clean of the crimson stains of those that came before us — the vibrant red that we let dictate who we are supposed to be. It is said that blood runs thicker than water, but water, at least, is fluid.)  
  
  
  
They had met six years ago, at the age of nine.  
  
The moment that Elias’ secondhand backpack slipped down to the floor next to Crisostomo Ibarra’s new Jansport bag on the first day of Grade 3, both of their worlds had shifted.  
  
It had been clear that, to some degree, they were different: The Ibarra’s had been one of the school’s biggest benefactors, and Crisostomo would spend his summer vacations reading books on his queen-sized bed for one or roaming around the large area of land his grandparents tended to back in the province. Elias and his twin sister had relied on scholarships to get into a decent enough school, and Elias would spend his summer vacations helping around their subdivision (and their neighbors were kind enough to spare him change or feed him for his efforts).  
  
While they differed in social status, Crisostomo had given him a place in one of the most notable private schools in the country. Elias had made a friend of sorts, as unconventional as it had been in the beginning. It had been strange to have someone like him around — sitting next to him at lunch to throw arguments at each other when he clearly had other friends to be with, pasting crocodile stickers on his History notebook to distract him from the lesson — but it was nice, too.  
  
They had met their equal — always neck and neck in a battle of brains and wit, uncertain as to who had the upper hand at any given moment. They had constantly pushed each other to grow, to become better. The transition between rivalry and friendship had been simple, and the transition to more had been slow but steady. (It was as though they had become what they were meant to be all along.)  
  
It had been six years ago, that Elias had decided to sit next to Crisostomo.  
  
(And it had been the best thing to happen to both of them.)  
  
  
  
It is said that blood runs thicker than water.  
  
That is, our culture is rooted in respecting elders and being family-oriented. That is, we are slaves to the concept of utang na loob — leave ourselves indebted to those that have raised us, leave ourselves to fulfill supposed obligations to supposed family. It is blood, though, that seeps out of the scraped knees of children, and it is in turn water that makes the harsh red fade into jagged pink lines.  
  
  
  
“Hey,” he spoke into the silence. “Besides like… hating my family, what’s your family like?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just humor me.”  
  
Crisostomo shrugged. “Well, lolo’s beliefs are ridiculously outdated, but he’s not so bad. I used to go fishing with him as a kid and he would tell me stories of my great-grandparents. Lola keeps him tame for the most part, though. She’s the only one in my family that knows I’m bisexual and she was really supportive about it and—”  
  
Elias looked over to his side. “Cris?”  
  
Crisostomo let out a shaky laugh, bringing his free hand to his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It was just really nice. Sila mama madalas wala sa bahay, but sometimes I think it’s for the best anyway. Sa dalas nilang nasa abroad, dapat lilipat kami sa America, pero pinaglaban ko na mag-stay kami dito. They just want the best for me naman, and I know na mahal nila ako.”  
  
“When I was younger, lahat ng hingin ko sa magulang ko, kaya nilang ibigay sa’kin. ‘Wag ko lang hinging umuwi sila ng maaga, birthday ko man o hindi, ‘di naman daw nila controlled schedule nila. ‘Wag lang ako humingi ng aso kasi hindi ko raw aalagaan ng maayos. ‘Wag lang ‘yun at kaya nilang ibigay sa’kin — at _ibibigay nila_ sa’kin. Pero siguro… Kung kaya ko lang bawiin lahat ng hiniling ko noon, ikaw lang hihingin ko sa kanila ngayon.”  
  
“Crisostomo…” Elias said, eyes wide and lips parted.  
  
“When it comes down to it,” continued Crisostomo, “we’re just like any other family. They’re not perfect and neither am I — but we love each other, despite our shortcomings and everything.”  
  
Elias nodded his understanding. “You know,” he said, “I don’t get what your family is still mad at us for. Kami na lang ni ate at mga magulang namin, minsan lang naming makita sina lolo at lola. Ano pa ba ang mayroon kami para kunin ninyo? Noong bata ako, sa liit ng lugar namin, sa liit ng pamilya namin, sa liit ko pa noon… Nagawa pa rin nila ‘nay na iparamdam sa’kin na… ewan ko, minsan parang sa’min ni Elisa umiikot ‘yung mundo, tapos minsan naman parang kami na ‘yung mundo.”  
  
A wistful chuckle bubbled from his throat. “Nakakamiss din. Hindi ko na maalala kung kailan ko huling naramdaman ‘yung ganoon. I guess ganoon talaga ‘pag tumatanda. Pero minsan, parang…” He chanced a glance at Crisostomo, watched as his hair got ruffled by the wind. The tips of his ears burned the same shade of pink as his neck. “Anyway. Mahal ko sila, at mahal nila ako — ‘yun lang ang mayroon ang pamilya namin.”  
  
“Sorry,” slipped out of Crisostomo’s mouth. “For what it’s worth—”  
  
“Hindi natin ‘to laban,” Elias interjected. “It’s just a shame that we got caught in the crossfire. You know as well as I do that we can’t fix this for them if they don’t want it. Hindi natin mababago ang isip nila. Ilang taon na tayo? Sa tingin mo seseryosohin nila tayo? Our job right now is to break the cycle.”  
  
“One day, I’m going to get to the bottom of everything,” Elias told him. “Tonight, I’m with you.”  
  
  
Crisostomo smiled. “Balang-araw, mapagmamalaki ko rin sa sansinukob na ikaw ang natatanging mahal ko. Sa ngayon… Hindi ako nagmamadaling umuwi dahil nandito na ‘ko, at hindi ko papakialaman ang mundo dahil nandito ka na.”  
  
Elias shook his head, a smile dancing on his lips. “Ewan ko sa’yo, Ibarra. Corny mo.”  
  
He shrugged. He gave the ground a soft kick to propel him forward, looking up to the stars and letting the wind blow against his face. Crisostomo let out a quick laugh. “My family thinks that I’m with Maria right now,” he admitted. “Her parents are under the impression that their daughter and I are with Sinang, and I’ll be sleeping in her kuya’s old room. They would never leave their precious angel alone with a teenage boy.”  
  
He scoffed a little. “Let it be known that Maria could and _would_ kick my ass if she wanted to and that it is hardly boys that they need to be worrying about.”  
  
Elias stared at him for a moment. “You’re staying the night?”  
  
“If you want me to,” Crisostomo replied hesitantly. “Your parents won’t be home ‘til Sunday, right?”  
  
“Ah. Right.”  
  
“So, is it okay then? If I stay?”  
  
Elias pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. That, uhh, sounds good. Crisostomo.”  
  
  
“Is your sister home?” Crisostomo wondered.  
  
“Si ate? Kasama yata ni Salome.”  
  
“Ate? She’s your twin sister.”  
  
“She’s the older twin. We’ve been over this,” he countered. He shook his head. “Have you ever slept in a twin-sized bed before?” Crisostomo blinked at him, blood rising to his cheeks. He laughed. “Of course not. Well, it’s like half the size of your normal bed and there will be twice the number of limbs tonight, so I hope that’s okay. Natutulog ka ba nang naka-aircon?”  
  
Crisostomo shrugged. “Most of the time. It’s June, though, I like sleeping with the window open.”  
  
“We’re sleeping with the window open,” Elias affirmed.  
  
“Why are you already thinking about getting me in your bed?” Crisostomo asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Gago,” Elias muttered. He shifted to his right, letting his shoulder crash into the other boy’s before the chains of his swing pulled him back. “Don’t say it like that.”  
  
“Language,” Crisostomo reprimanded jokingly.  
  
  
“You know, you’re the only good thing in my life that I still have to fight to keep.” Elias could feel Crisostomo’s pinky firmly hanging onto his own. “And maybe we’re not fighting for each other right now, but I like to think that we’re both sticking it out until we can. We’re fifteen. We’re not stupid enough to get ourselves disowned just because we don’t want to be each other’s dirty little secret. We can’t love each other because we’re supposed put family first, love them first. It sucks to have to settle, but we have to have a little faith in the future.”  
  
Elias chuckled. “You think life knows what it’s doing, don’t you?”  
  
“Hey,” Crisostomo laughed. “I’ve always had enough faith in the universe for both of us, haven’t I?”  
  
“I’ve always had enough faith in you.”  
  
Crisostomo dug the heel of his foot on the ground, halting the swing. Elias bit back the teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, about the way the pink blooming underneath the other boy’s skin looked under the glow of the moon. “Cheesy mo rin eh,” he managed out. “’Di bagay sa’yo.”  
  
“Eh, ako? Bagay ba sa’yo?”  
  
“ _Elias_.”  
  
_Crisostomo_ , he thought. _Mahal kita._  
  
He glanced up at the stars. Elias tugged at the other boy’s pinky, catching him off-guard enough for his palm to open up. He intertwined the rest of their fingers together, wishing on a star for more nights like this one. It was nice — a hand, warm and firm against his palm, with Crisostomo’s pulse beating softly against his wrist.  
  
_Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita._  
  
  
  
It is said that blood runs thicker than water.  
  
Often, this is meant to say that the bonds formed between kin are the strongest and most important. Other interpretations, though, suggest that the original expression fell more along the lines of _the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb_. That is, perhaps the people whom we actively decide to have in our lives are more important after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you happen to be in Grade 9 or Grade 10, I hope that beyond these ships and fanfiction, you get to appreciate Noli Me Tangere & El FIlibusterismo. It can be hard to digest or to want to make the effort for, and it can be especially discouraging depending on your teacher too. I had to read the English translation before the book we were given at school because I have difficulty reading through entire blocks of Filipino texts at a time (which I feel bad for, but am working on). There are English translations online and summaries if you need them!
> 
> (On another note, I miss how it felt to find out about the Noli Me Tangere & Related Works tag on AO3 and consume anything and everything that I could get my hands on. Elibarra is the Original Gay Ship of required Filipino literature — after Floradin, of course, but I can't write them well enough to make content, sorry.)
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
